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.JOHN  BROW 


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11  People  of  my  youth  who  were  boys  and  girls  when 
I  left  them."—  Preface 


BY 


JOHN   BROWN,  M.D. 


NEW  YORK 
•McLOUGHLIN-  BROTHERS 


Copyright.  1906.  by 
McLouoHLiN  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK 


2051368 


\ 


JOHN    1JRO\VX,     M.D. 


Four  years  ago,  my  uncle,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Smith,  of  Biggar, 
asked  me  to  give  a  lecture  in  my 
native  village,  the  shrewd  little 
capital  of  the  Upper  Ward.  I 
never  lectured  before ;  I  have  no 
turn  for  it;  but  Avunculus  was 
urgent,  and  I  had  an  odd  sort  of 
desire  to  say  something  to  these 
strong-brained,  primitive  people  of  my  youth, 
who  were  boys  and  girls  when  I  left  them.  I 
could  think  of  nothing  to  give  them.  At  last 
I  said  to  myself,  "I'll  tell  them  Ailie's  story." 
I  had  often  told  it  to  myself;  indeed,  it  came  on 
me  at  intervals  almost  painfully,  as  if  demanding 
to  be  told,  as  if  I  heard  Rab  whining  at  the  door 
to  get  in  or  out, — 

"Whispering  how  meek  and  gentle  he  could  be;" 

or  as  if  James  was  entreating  me  on  his  death-bed 
to  tell  all  the  world  what  his  Ailie  was.  But  it 
was  easier  said  than  done.  I  tried  it  over  and 

s 


4  PREFACE 

over,  in  vain.  At  last,  after  a  happy  dinner  at 
Hanley — why  are  the  dinners  always  happy  at 
Hanley? — and  a  drive  home  alone  through 

"The  gleam,  the  shadow,  and  the  peace  supreme" 

of  a  midsummer  night,  I  sat  down  about  twelve 
and  rose  at  four,  having  finished  it.  I  slunk  off 
to  bed,  satisfied  and  cold.  I  don't  think  I  made 
almost  any  changes  in  it.  I  read  it  to  the  Biggar 
folk  in  the  schoolhouse,  very  frightened,  and  felt 
I  was  reading  it  ill,  and  their  honest  faces  inti- 
mated as  much  in  their  affectionate,  puzzled 
looks.  I  gave  it  on  my  return  home  to  some 
friends,  who  liked  the  story;  and  the  first  idea 
was  to  print  it,  as  now,  with  illustrations,  on  the 
principle  of  Rogers's  joke,  "that  it  would  be 
dished  except  for  the  plates." 

But  I  got  afraid  of  the  public,  and  paused. 
Meanwhile  some  good  friends  said  Rab  might  be 
thrown  in  among  the  other  idle  hours,  and  so  he 
was ;  and  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  think  how 
many  new  friends  he  got. 

I  was  at  Biggar  the  other  day,  and  some  of  the 
good  folks  told  me,  with  a  grave  smile  peculiar  to 
that  region,  that  when  Rab  came  to  them  in  print 
he  was  so  good  that  they  wouldn't  believe  he  was 
the  same  Rab  I  had  delivered  in  the  schoolroom, 


PREFACE  5 

— a  testimony  to  my  vocal  powers  of  impressing 
the  multitude  somewhat  conclusive. 

It  has  been  objected  to  it,  as  a  work  of  art,  that 
there  is  too  much  pain ;  and  many  have  said  to  me, 
with  some  bitterness,  "Why  did  you  make  me 
suffer  so?"  But  I  think  of  my  father's  answer 
when  I  told  him  this,  "And  why  shouldn't  they 
suffer?  she  suffered;  it  will  do  them  good;  for 
pity,  genuine  pity,  is,  as  old  Aristotle  says,  'of 
power  to  purge  the  mind!' '  And  though  in  all 
works  of  art  there  should  be  a  plus  of  delectation, 
the  ultimate  overcoming  of  evil  and  sorrow  by 
good  and  joy — the  end  of  all  art  being  pleasure 
— whatsoever  things  are  lovely  first,  and  things 
that  are  true  and  of  good  report  afterwards  in 
their  turn,  still  there  is  a  pleasure,  one  of  the 
strangest  and  strongest  in  our  nature,  in  imagi- 
native suffering  with  and  for  others, — 

"In  the  soothing  thoughts  that  spring 
Out  of  human  suffering"; 

for  sympathy  is  worth  nothing,  is,  indeed,  not 
itself,  unless  it  has  in  it  somewhat  of  personal 
pain.  It  is  the  hereafter  that  gives  to 

"the  touch  of  a  vanish'd  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still," 

its  own  infinite  meaning.     Our  hearts  and  our 


6  PREFACE 

understandings  follow  Ailie  and  her  "ain  manv/ 
into  that  world  where  there  is  no  pain,  where  no 
one  says,  "I  am  sick."  What  is  all  the  philosophy 
of  Cicero,  the  wailings  of  Catullus,  and  the 
gloomy  playfulness  of  Horace's  endless  varia- 
tions on  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,"  with  its  terrific 
"for,"  to  the  simple  faith  of  the  carrier  and  his 
wife  in  "I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life"? 

I  think  I  can  hear  from  across  the  fields  of 
sleep  and  other  years,  Ailie's  sweet,  dim,  wander- 
ing voice  trying  to  say, — 

Our  bonnie  bairn's  there,  John, 
She  was  baith  gude  and  fair,  John, 
And  we  grudged  her  sair,  John, 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 

But  Sorrow's  sel'  wears  past,  John, 
The  joys  are  comin'  fast,  John, 
The  joys  that  aye  shall  last,  John, 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal. 


RAB. 


TO 

MY  TWO  FRIENDS 

AT  BUSBY    RENFREWSHIRE 

IM  MMEMil 


STORY 


Four  -  and  -  thirty  years  ago, 
Bob  Ainslie  and  I  werfe  coming 
up  Infirmary  Street  ^rom  the 
Edinburgh  High  Schbol,  our 
heads  together,  and  our  arms 
intertwisted,  as  only  lovers  and 
boys  know  how,  or  why. 

When  we  got  to  the  top  of  the  street,  and 
turned  north,  we  espied  a  crowd  at  the  *Tron 
Church.  "A  dog-fight!"  shouted  Bob,  and  was 
off;  and  so  was  I,  both  of  us  all  but  praying  that 
it  might  not  be  over  before  we  got  up!  And  is 
not  this  boy-nature?  and  human  nature,  too?  and 
don't  we  all  wish  a  house  on  fire  not  to  be  out  be- 
fore we  see  it?  Dogs  like  fighting;  old  Isaac  says 
they  "delight"  in  it,  and  for  the  best  of  all  rea- 
sons; and  boys  are  not  cruel  because  they  like  to 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  10 

see  the  fi^ht.  They  see  three  of  the  great  cardi- 
nal virtues  of  dog  or  man — courage,  endurance, 
and  skijl — in  intense  action.  This  is  very  differ- 
ent from  a  love  of  making  dogs  fight,  and  enjoy- 
ing, and  aggravating,  and  making  gain  by  their 
pluck.  A  boy,  be  he  ever  so  fond  himself  of 
figjhting,  if  he  be  a  good  boy,  hates  and  despises 
all  this,  but  he  would  have  run  off  with  Bob  and 
me  fast  enough;  it  is  a  natural  and  a  not  wicked 
interest  that  all  boys  and  men  have  in  witnessing 
intense  energy  in  action. 

Does  any  curious  and  finely  ignorant  woman 
wish  to  know  how  Bob's  eye  at  a  glance  an- 
nounced a  dog-fight  to  his  brain  ?  He  did  not,  he 
could  not,  see  the  dogs  fighting ;  it  was  a  flash  of 
an  inference,  a  rapid  induction.  The  crowd  round, 
a  couple  of  dogs  fighting  is  a  crowd  masculine 
mainly,  with  an  occasional  active,  compassionate 
woman,  fluttering  wildly  round  the  outside,  and 
using  her  tongue  and  her  hands  freely  upon  the 
men,  as  so  many  "brutes";  it  is  a  crowd  annular, 


|1  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

compact  and  mobile ;  a  crowd  centripetal,  having 
its  eyes  and  its  heads  all  bent  downwards  and  in- 
wards, to  one  common  focus. 

Well,  Bob  and  I  are  up,  and  find  it  is  not  over : 
a  small,  thoroughbred,  white  bull-terrier  is  busy 
throttling  a  large  shepherd's  dog,  unaccustomed 
to  war,  but  not  to  be  trifled  with.  They  are  hard 
at  it ;  the  scientific  little  fellow  doing  his  work  in 
great  style;  his  pastoral  enemy  fighting  wildly, 
but  with  the  sharpest  of  teeth  and  a  great  cour- 
age. Science  and  breeding,  however,  soon  had 
their  own;  the  Game  Chicken,  as  the  premature 
Bob  called  him,  working  his  way  up,  took  his  final 
grip  of  poor  Yarrow's  throat, — and  he  lay  gasp- 
ing and  done  for.  His  master,  a  brown,  hand- 
some, big,  young  shepherd  from  Tweedsmuir, 
would  have  liked  to  have  knocked  down  any  man, 
would  "drink  up  Esil,  or  eat  a  crocodile,"  for  that 
part,  if  he  had  a  chance :  it  was  no  use  kicking  the 
little  dog;  that  would  only  make  him  hold  the 
closer.  Many  were  the  means  shouted  out  in 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  12 

mouthfuls,  of  the  best  possible  ways  of  ending 
it.  "Water!"  but  there  was  none  near,  and  many 
cried  for  it  who  might  have  got  it  from  the  well 
at  Blackfriars  Wynd.  "Bite  the  tail!"  and  a 
large,  vague,  benevolent,  middle-aged  man,  more 
desirous  than  wise,  with  some  struggle  got  the 
bushy  end  of  Yarrow's  tail  into  his  ample  mouth, 
and  bit  it  with  all  his  might.  This  was  more  than 
enough  for  the  much-enduring,  much-perspiring 
shepherd,  who,  with  a  gleam  of  joy  over  his  broad 
visage,  delivered  a  terrific  facer  upon  our  large, 
vague,  benevolent,  middle-aged  friend, — who 
went  down  like  a  shot. 

Still  the  Chicken  holds;  death  not  far  off. 
"Snuff!  a  pinch  of  snuff!"  observed  a  calm, 
highly  dressed  young  buck,  with  an  eye-glass  in 
his  eye.  "Snuff,  indeed!"  growled  the  angry 
crowd,  affronted  and  glaring.  "Snuff!  a  pinch 
of  snuff!"  again  observes  the  buck,  but  with  more 
urgency;  whereon  were  produced  several  open 
boxes,  and  from  a  mull  which  may  have  been  at 


13  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

Culloden  he  took  a  pinch,  knelt  down,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  the  nose  of  the  Chicken.  The  laws  of 
physiology  and  of  snuff  take  their  course;  the 
Chicken  sneezes,  and  Yarrow  is  free! 

The  young  pastoral  giant  stalks  off  with  Yar- 
row in  his  arms, — comforting  him. 

But  the  bull-terrier's  blood  is  up,  and  his  soul 
unsatisfied;  he  grips  the  first  dog  he  meets,  and, 
discovering  she  is  not  a  dog,  in  Homeric  phrase, 
he  makes  a  brief  sort  of  amende,  and  is  off.  The 
boys,  with  Bob  and  me  at  their  head,  are  after 
him:  down  Niddry  Street  he  goes,  bent  on  mis- 
chief; up  the  Cowgate  like  an  arrow, — Bob  and  I, 
and  our  small  men,  panting  behind. 

There,  under  the  single  arch  of  the  South 
Bridge,  is  a  huge  mastiff,  sauntering  down  the 
middle  of  the  causeway,  as  if  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets ;  he  is  old,  gray,  brindled,  as  big  as  a 
little  Highland  bull,  and  has  the  Shakespearian 
dewlaps  shaking  as  he  goes. 

The  Chicken  makes  straight  at  him,  and  fas- 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  14 

tens  on  his  throat.  To  our  astonishment,  the  great 
creature  does  nothing  but  stand  still,  hold  him- 
self up,  and  roar, — yes,  roar;  a  long,  serious  re- 
monstrative  roar.  How  is  this?  Bob  and  I  are 
up  to  them.  He  is  muzzled!  The  bailies  had  pro- 
claimed a  general  muzzling,  and  his  master, 
studying  strength  and  economy  mainly,  had  en- 
compassed his  huge  jaws  in  a  home-made  appar- 
atus, constructed  out  of  the  leather  of  some  an- 
cient breechin.  His  mouth  was  open  as  far  as  it 
could ;  his  lips  curled  in  a  rage, — a  sort  of  terrible 
grin;  his  teeth  gleaming,  ready,  from  out  the 
darkness;  the  strap  across  his  mouth  tense  as  a 
bowstring ;  his  whole  frame  stiff  with  indignation 
and  surprise;  his  roar  asking  us  all  round,  "Did 
you  ever  see  the  like  of  this?"  He  looked  a  statue 
of  anger  and  astonishment,  done  in  Aberdeen 
granite. 

We  soon  had  a  crowd ;  the  Chicken  held  on.  "A 
knife!"  cried  Bob;  and  a  cobbler  gave  him  his 
knife:  you  know  the  kind  of  knife,  worn  away 


15  RAB   AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

obliquely  to  a  point,  and  always  keen.  I  put  its 
edge  to  the  tense  leather;  it  ran  before  it;  and 
then! — one  sudden  jerk  of  that  enormous  head,  a 
sort  of  dirty  mist  about  his  mouth,  no  noise,  and 
the  bright  and  fierce  little  fellow  is  dropped,  limp 
and  dead.  A  solemn  pause:  this  was  more  than 
any  of  us  had  bargained  for.  I  turned  the  little 
fellow  over,  and  saw  he  was  quite  dead ;  the  mas- 
tiff had  taken  him  by  the  small  of  the  back  like  a 
rat,  and  broken  it. 

He  looked  down  at  his  victim  appeased, 
ashamed,  and  amazed;  snuffed  him  all  over, 
stared  at  him,  and  taking  a  sudden  thought, 
turned  round  and  trotted  off.  Bob  took  the  dead 
dog  up,  and  said:  "John,  we'll  bury  him  after 
tea." — "Yes,"  said  I,  and  was  off  after  the  mas- 
tiff. He  made  up  the  Cowgate  at  a  rapid  swing ; 
he  had  forgotten  some  engagement.  He  turned 
up  the  Candlemaker  Row,  and  stopped  at  the 
Harrow  Inn. 

There  was  a  carrier's  cart  ready  to  start,  and  a 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  lo 

keen,  thin,  impatient,  black-a-vised  little  man,  his 
hand  at  his  gray  horse's  head,  looking  about 
angrily  for  something. 

-,  "Rab,  ye  thief!"  said  he,  aiming  a  kick  at  my 
great  friend,  who  drew  cringing  up,  and  avoiding 
the  heavy  shoe  with  more  agility  than  dignity, 
and  watching  his  master's  eye,  slunk  dismayed 
under  the  cart,  his  ears  down,  and  as  much  as  he 
had  of  tail  down,  too. 

What  a  man  this  must  be,  thought  I,  to  whom 
my  tremendous  hero  turns  tail !  The  carrier  saw 
the  muzzle  hanging,  cut  and  useless,  from  his 
neck,  and  I  eagerly  told  him  the  story,  which  Bob 
and  I  always  thought,  and  still  think,  Homer,  or 
King  David,  or  Sir  Walter  alone  were  worthy  to 
rehearse.  The  severe  little  man  was  mitigated, 
and  condescended  to  say,  "Rab,  my  man,  puir 
Rabbie," — whereupon  the  stump  of  a  tail  rose 
up,  the  ears  were  cocked,  the  eyes  filled,  and  were 
comforted;  the  two  friends  were  reconciled. 


17  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

"Hupp!"  and  a  stroke  of  the  whip  were  given  to 
Jess ;  and  off  went  the  three. 

Bob  and  I  buried  the  Game  Chicken  that  night 
(we  had  not  much  of  a  tea)  in  fhe  back-green  of 
his  house  in  Melville  Street,  No.  17,  with  consid- 
erable gravity  and  silence;  and  being  at  the  time 
in  the  Iliad,  and,  like  all  boys,  Trojans,  we  called 
him  Hector,  of  course. 

Six  years  have  passed, — a  long  time  for  a  boy 
and  a  dog ;  Bob  Ainslie  is  off  to  the  wars ;  I  am  a 
medical  student,  and  clerk  at  Minto  House  Hos- 
pital. 

Rab  I  saw  almost  every  week  on  the  Wednes- 
day ;  and  we  had  much  pleasant  intimacy.  I  found 
the  way  to  his  heart  by  frequent  scratching  of  his 
huge  head,  and  an  occasional  bone.  When  I  did 
not  notice  him  he  would  plant  himself  straight 
before  me,  and  stand  wagging  that  bud  of  a  tail, 
and  looking  up,  with  his  head  a  little  to  the  one 
side.  His  master  I  occasionally  saw;  he  used  to 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  |Q 

call  me  "Maister  John,"  but  was  laconic  as  any 
Spartan. 

One  fine  October  afternoon,  I  was  leaving  the 
hospital,  when  I  saw  the  large  gate  open,  and  in 
walked  Rab,  with  that  great  and  easy  saunter  of 
his.  He  looked  as  if  taking  general  possession  of 
the  place;  like  the  Duke  of  Wellington  entering 
a  subdued  city,  satiated  with  victory  and  peace. 
After  him  came  Jess,  now  white  from  age,  with 
her  cart;  and  in  it  a  woman  carefully  wrapped 
up, — the  carrier  leading  the  horse  anxiously  and 
looking  back.  When  he  saw  me,  James  ( for  his 
name  was  James  Noble)  made  a  curt  and  gro- 
tesque "boo,"  and  said,  "Maister  John,  this  is  the 
mistress;  she's  got  trouble  in  her  breest, — some 
kind  o'  an  income,  we're  thinkin'." 

By  this  time  I  saw  the  woman's  face;  she  was 
sitting  on  a  sack  filled  with  straw,  her  husband's 
plaid  round  her,  and  his  big  coat,  with  its  large 
white  metal  buttons,  over  her  feet. 

I  never  saw  a  more  unforgetable  face,  pale, 


19  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

serious,  lonely,*  delicate,  sweet,  without  being  at 
all  what  we  call  fine.  She  looked  sixty,  and  had 
on  a  mutch,  white  as  snow,  with  its  black  ribbon ; 
her  silvery,  smooth  hair  setting  off  her  dark-gray 
eyes, — eyes  such  as  one  sees  only  twice  or  thrice 
in  a  life-time,  full  of  suffering,  full  also  of  the 
overcoming  of  it;  her  eyebrowsf  black  and  deli- 
cate, and  her  mouth  firm,  patient  and  contented, 
which  few  mouths  ever  are. 

As  I  have  said,  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful 
countenance,  or  one  more  subdued  to  settled  quiet. 
"Ailie,"  said  James,  "this  is  Maister  John,  the 
young  doctor,  Rab's  freend,  ye  ken.  We  often 
speak  aboot  you,  doctor."  She  smiled,  and  made 
a  movement,  but  said  nothing;  and  prepared  to 
come  down,  putting  her  plaid  aside  and  rising. 
Had  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory,  been  handing 

*It  is  not  easy  giving  this  look  by  one  word;  it  was  expressive  of 
her  being  so  much  of  her  life  alone. 

t  Black  brows,  they  say, 

Become  some  women  best;  so  that  there  be  not 
Too  much  hair  there,  but  in  a  semi-circle, 
Or  a  half-moon  made  with  a  pen. — A  WINTEE'S  TALE. 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  20 

down  the  Queen  of  Sheba  at  his  palace  gate,  he 
could  not  have  done  it  more  daintily,  more  ten- 
derly, more  like  a  gentleman,  than  did  James,  the 
Howgate  carrier,  when  he  lifted  down  Ailie  his 
wife.  The  contrast  of  his  small,  swarthy,  weath- 
er-beaten, keen,  worldly  face  to  hers — pale,  sub- 
dued, and  beautiful — was  something  wonderful. 
Rab  looked  on,  concerned  and  puzzled,  but  ready 
for  anything  that  might  turn  up, — were  it  to 
strangle  the  nurse,  the  porter,  or  even  me.  Ailie 
and  he  seemed  great  friends. 

"As  I  was  say  in',  she's  got  a  kind  o'  trouble  in 
her  breest,  doctor;  wull  ye  tak'  a  look  at  it?"  We 
walked  into  the  consulting-room,  all  four;  Rab 
grim  and  comic,  willing  to  be  happy  and  confi- 
dential if  cause  could  be  shown,  willing  also  to  be 
the  reverse,  on  the  same  terms.  Ailie  sat  down, 
undid  her  open  gown  and  her  lawn  handkerchief 
round  her  neck,  and  without  a  word  showed  me 
her  right  breast.  I  looked  at  it  and  examined  it 
carefully, — she  and  James  watching  me,  and 


21  ROB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

Rab  eyeing  all  three.  What  could  I  say?  there  it 
was,  that  had  once  been  so  soft,  so  shapely,  so 
white,  so  gracious  and  bountiful,  so  "full  of  all 
blessed  conditions," — hard  as  a  stone,  a  centre  of 
horrid  pain,  making  that  pale  face,  with  its  gray, 
lucid,  reasonable  eyes,  and  its  sweet,  resolved 
mouth,  express  the  full  measure  of  suffering 
overcome.  Why  was  that  gentle,  modest,  sweet 
woman,  clean  and  lovable,  condemned  by  God  to 
bear  such  a  burden? 

I  got  her  away  to  bed.  "May  Rab  and  me 
bide?"  said  James.  "You  may;  and  Rab,  if  he 
will  behave  himself."  "I'se  warrant  he's  do  that, 
doctor;"  and  in  slunk  the  faithful  beast.  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  him.  There  are  no  such  dogs 
now.  He  belonged  to  a  lost  tribe.  As  I  have 
said,  he  was  brindled  and  gray  like  Rubislaw 
granite;  his  hair  short,  hard,  and  close,  like  a 
lion's ;  his  body  thick-set,  like  a  little  bull, — a  sort 
of  compressed  Hercules  of  a  dog.  He  must  have 
been  ninety  pounds  weight  at  the  least;  he  had  a 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  22 

large,  blunt  head;  his  muzzle  black  as  night,  his 
mouth  blacker  than  any  night,  a  tooth  or  two — 
being  all  he  had — gleaming  out  of  his  jaws  of 
darkness.  His  head  was  scarred  with  the  records 
of  old  wounds,  a  sort  of  series  of  fields  of  battle 
all  over  it;  one  eye  out,  one  ear  cropped  as  close 
as  was  Archbishop  Leighton's  father's;  the  re- 
maining eye  had  the  power  of  two;  and  above  it, 
and  in  constant  communication  with  it,  was  a 
tattered  rag  of  an  ear,  which  was  forever  unfurl- 
ing itself,  like  an  old  flag ;  and  then  that  bud  of  a 
tail,  about  one  inch  long,  if  it  could  in  any  sense 
be  said  to  be  long,  being  as  broad  as  long — the 
mobility,  the  instantaneousness  of  that  bud  were 
very  funny  and  surprising,  and  its  expressive 
twinklings  and  winkings,  the  intercommunica- 
tions between  the  eye,  the  ear,  and  it,  were  of  the 
oddest  and  swiftest. 

Rab  had  the  dignity  and  simplicity  of  great 
size;  and,  having  fought  his  way  all  along  the 
road  to  absolute  supremacy,  he  was  as  mighty  in 


23  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

his  own  line  as  Julius  Caesar  or  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  and  had  the  gravity*  of  all  great 
fighters. 

You  must  have  often  observed  the  likeness  of 
certain  men  to  certain  animals,  and  of  certain 
dogs  to  men.  Now,  I  never  looked  at  Rab  with- 
out thinking  of  the  great  Baptist  preacher,  An- 
drew Fuller,  f  The  same  large,  heavy,  menacing, 
combative,  sombre,  honest  countenance,  the  same 
deep,  inevitable  eye,  the  same  look, — as  of  thun- 
der asleep,  but  ready, — neither  a  dog  nor  a  man 
to  be  trifled  with. 

*A  Highland  gamekeeper,  when  asked  why  a  certain  terrier  of 
singular  pluck  was  so  much  more  solemn  than  the  other  dogs,  said, 
"O,  sir,  life's  full  o'  sairiousness  to  him — he  just  never  can  get  enuff 
o'  fechtin'." 

fFuller  was,  in  early  life,  when  a  farmer  lad  at  Soham,  famous 
as  a  boxer;  not  quarrelsome,  but  not  without  "the  stern  delight"  a 
man  of  strength  and  courage  feels  in  their  exercise.  Dr.  Charles 
Stewart,  of  Dunearn,  whose  rare  gifts  and  graces  as  a  physician, 
a  divine,  a  scholar,  and  a  gentleman,  live  only  in  the  memory  of 
those  few  who  knew  and  survive  him,  liked  to  tell  how  Mr.  Fuller 
used  to  say,  that  when  he  was  in  the  pulpit  and  saw  a  buirdly  man 
come  along  the  passage  he  would  instinctively  draw  himself  up, 
measure  his  imaginary  antagonist,  and  forecast  how  he  would  deal 
with  him,  his  hands  meanwhile  condensing  into  fists,  and  tending  to 
"square."  He  must  have  been  a  hard  hitter  if  he  boxed  as  he 
preached — what  "The  Fancy"  would  call  "an  ugly  customer.'"' 


ROB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  24 

Next  day,  my  master,  the  surgeon,  examined 
Ailie.  There  was  no  doubt  it  must  kill  her,  and 
soon.  It  could  be  removed — it  might  never  re- 
turn— it  would  give  her  speedy  relief — she  should 
have  it  done.  She  courtesied,  looked  at  James, 
and  said,  "When?" — "To-morrow,"  said  the  kind 
surgeon,  a  man  of  few  words.  She  and  James 
and  Rab  and  I  retired.  I  noticed  that  he  and  she 
spoke  little,  but  seemed  to  anticipate  everything 
in  each  other.  The  following  day  at  noon,  the 
students  came  in,  hurrying  up  the  great  stair.  At 
the  first  landing-place,  on  a  small,  well-known 
blackboard,  was  a  bit  of  paper  fastened  by 
wafers,  and  many  remains  of  old  wafers  beside  it. 
On  the  paper  were  the  words:  "An  operation  to- 
day. J.  B.,  Clerk/' 

Up  ran  the  youths,  eager  to  secure  good 
places ;  in  they  crowded,  full  of  interest  and  talk. 
"What's  the  case?"  "Which  side  is  it?" 

Don't  think  them  heartless;  they  are  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  you  or  I;  they  get  over 


25  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

their  professional  horrors,  and  into  their  proper 
work, — and  in  them  pity,  as  an  emotion,  ending 
in  itself  or  at  best  in  tears  and  a  long-drawn 
breath,  lessens,  while  pity  as  a  motive  is  quick- 
ened, and  gains  power  and  purpose.  It  is  well 
for  poor  human  nature  that  it  is  so. 

The  operating  theatre  is  crowded;  much  talk 
and  fun,  and  all  the  cordiality  and  stir  of  youth. 
The  surgeon  with  his  staff  of  assistants  is  there. 
In  comes  Ailie :  one  look  at  her  quiets  and  abates 
the  eager  students.  That  beautiful  old  woman  is 
too  much  for  them ;  they  sit  down  and  are  dumb, 
and  gaze  at  her.  These  rough  boys  feel  the  power 
of  her  presence.  She  walks  in  quickly,  but  with- 
out haste ;  dressed  in  her  mutch,  her  neckerchief, 
her  white  dimity  short-gown,  her  black  bombazine 
petticoat,  showing  her  white  worsted  stockings 
and  her  carpet-shoes.  Behind  her  was  James  and 
Rab.  James  sat  down  in  the  distance,  and  took 
that  huge  and  noble  head  between  his  knees.  Rab 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  26 

looked  perplexed  and  dangerous ;  forever  cocking 
his  ear  and  dropping  it  as  fast. 

Ailie  stepped  up  on  a  seat,  and  laid  herself  on 
the  table  as  her  friend  the  surgeon  told  her;  ar- 
ranged herself,  gave  a  rapid  look  at  James,  shut 
her  eyes,  rested  herself  on  me,  and  took  my  hand. 
The  operation  was  at  once  begun;  it  was  neces- 
sarily slow;  and  chloroform — one  of  God's  best 
gifts  to  his  suffering  children — was  then  un- 
known. The  surgeon  did  his  work.  The  pale 
face  showed  its  pain,  but  was  still  and  silent. 
Rab's  soul  was  working  within  him;  he  saw  that 
something  strange  was  going  on, — blood  flowing 
from  his  mistress,  and  she  suffering;  his  ragged 
ear  was  up,  and  importunate;  he  growled,  and 
gave  now  and  then  a  sharp,  impatient  yelp;  he 
would  have  liked  to  have  done  something  to  that 
man.  But  James  had  him  firm,  and  gave  him  a 
glower  from  time  to  time,  and  an  intimation  of  a 
possible  kick ;  all  the  better  for  James,  it  kept  his 
eye  and  his  mind  off  Ailie. 


27  RAB   AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

It  is  over:  she  is  dressed,  steps  gently  and  de- 
cently down  from  the  table,  looks  for  James; 
then  turning  to  the  surgeon  and  the  students  she 
courtesies,  and  in  a  low,  clear  voice  begs  their  par- 
don if  she  has  behaved  ill.  The  students — all  of 
us — wept  like  children;  the  surgeon  happed  her 
up  carefully,  and,  resting  on  James  and  me,  Ailie 
went  to  her  room,  Rab  following.  We  put  her  to 
bed.  James  took  off  his  heavy  shoes,  crammed 
with  tackets,  heel-capt  and  toe-capt,  and  put 
them  carefully  under  the  table,  saying,  "Maister 
John,  I'm  for  nane  o'  yer  strynge  nurse  bodies 
for  Ailie.  I'll  be  her  nurse,  and  I'll  gang  aboot 
on  my  stockin'  soles  as  canny  as  pussy."  And 
so  he  did;  and  handy  and  clever,  and  swift  and 
tender  as  any  woman,  was  that  horny-handed, 
snell,  peremptory  little  man.  Everything  she  got 
he  gave  her;  he  seldom  slept;  and  often  I  saw 
his  small,  shrewd  eyes  out  of  the  darkness,  fixed 
on  her.  As  before,  they  spoke  little. 

Rab  behaved  well,  never  moving,  showing  us 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  28 

how  meek  and  gentle  he  could  be,  and  occasion- 
ally in  his  sleep,  letting  us  know  that  he  was  de- 
molishing some  adversary.  He  took  a  walk  with 
me  every  day,  generally  to  the  Candlemaker 
Row;  but  he  was  sombre  and  mild;  declined  do- 
ing battle,  though  some  fit  cases  offered,  and,  in- 
deed, submitted  to  sundry  indignities;  and  was 
always  very  ready  to  turn,  and  came  faster  back, 
and  trotted  up  the  stair  with  much  lightness,  and 
went  straight  to  that  door. 

Jess,  the  mare,  had  been  sent,  with  her  weather- 
worn cart,  to  Howgate,  and  had,  doubtless,  her 
own  dim  and  placid  meditations  and  confusions, 
on  the  absence  of  her  master  and  Rab,  and  her 
unnatural  freedom  from  the  road  and  her  cart. 

For  some  days  Ailie  did  well.  The  wound 
healed  "by  the  first  intention" ;  for,  as  James  said, 
"Oor  Ailie's  skin's  ower  clean  to  beil."  The  stu- 
dents came  in  quiet  and  anxious,  and  surrounded 
her  bed.  She  said  she  liked  to  see  their  young, 
honest  faces,  The  surgeon  dressed  her,  and  spoke 


29  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

to  her  in  his  own  short,  kind  way,  pitying  her 
through  his  eyes,  Rab  and  James  outside  the  cir- 
cle,— Rab  being  now  reconciled,  and  even  cordial, 
and  having  made  up  his  mind  that  as  yet  nobody 
required  worrying,  but,  as  you  may  suppose, 
semper  paratus. 

So  far  well :  but,  four  days  after  the  operation, 
my  patient  had  a  sudden  and  long  shivering,  a 
"groosin',"  as  she  called  it.  I  saw  her  soon  after; 
her  eyes  were  too  bright,  her  cheek  colored,  she 
was  restless,  and  ashamed  of  being  so;  the  bal- 
ance was  lost ;  mischief  had  begun.  On  looking 
at  the  wound  a  blush  of  red  told  the  secret:  her 
pulse  was  rapid,  her  breathing  anxious  and  quick ; 
she  wasn't  herself,  as  she  said,  and  was  vexed  at 
her  restlessness.  We  tried  what  we  could.  James 
did  everything,  was  everywhere;  never  in  the 
way,  never  out  of  it ;  Rab  subsided  under  the  table 
into  a  dark  place,  and  was  motionless,  all  but  his 
eye,  which  followed  everyone.  Ailie  got  worse; 
began  to  wander  in  her  mind,  gently;  was  more 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  30 

demonstrative  in  her  ways  to  James,  rapid  in  her 
questions,  and  sharp  at  times.  He  was  vexed, 
and  said,  "She  was  never  that  way  afore;  no, 
never."  For  a  time  she  knew  her  head  was  wrong, 
and  was  always  asking  our  pardon, — the  dear, 
gentle  old  woman;  then  delirium  set  in  strong, 
without  pause.  Her  brain  gave  way,  and  then 
came  that  terrible  spectacle, — 

"The  intellecutal  power,  through  words  and  things, 
Went  sounding  on  its  dim  and  perilous  way." 

she  sang  bits  of  old  songs  and  Psalms,  stopping 
suddenly,  mingling  the  Psalms  of  David  and  the 
diviner  words  of  his  Son  and  Lord  with  homely 
odds  and  ends  and  scraps  of  ballads. 

Nothing  more  touching,  or  in  a  sense  more 
strangely  beautiful,  did  I  ever  witness.  Her 
tremulous,  rapid,  affectionate,  eager  Scotch  voice, 
the  swift,  aimless,  bewildered  mind,  the  baffled 
utterance,  the  bright  and  perilous  eye ;  some  wild 
words,  some  household  cares,  something  for 
James,  the  names  of  the  dead,  Rab  called  rapidly 


31  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

and  in  a  "fremyt"  voice,  and  he  starting  up  sur- 
prised, and  slinking  off  as  if  he  were  to  blame 
somehow,  or  had  been  dreaming  he  heard;  many 
eager  questions  and  beseechings  which  James  and 
I  could  make  nothing  of,  and  on  which  she 
seemed  to  set  her  all,  and  then  sink  back  ununder- 
stood.  It  was  very  sad,  but  better  than  many 
things  that  are  not  called  sad.  James  hovered 
about,  put  out  and  miserable,  but  active  and  exact 
as  ever;  read  to  her,  when  there  was  a  lull,  short 
bits  from  the  Psalms,  prose  and  metre,  chanting 
the  latter  in  his  own  rude  and  serious  way,  show- 
ing great  knowledge  of  the  fit  words,  bearing  up 
like  a  man,  and  doating  over  her  as  his  "ain 
Ailie."  "Ailie,  ma  woman!"  "Ma  ain  bonnie 
wee  dawtie!" 

The  end  was  drawing  on :  the  golden  bowl  was 
breaking;  the  silver  cord  was  fast  being  loosed; 
that  animula  blandula,  vagula,  hospes,  comesque, 
was  about  to  flee.  The  body  and  the  soul,  com- 
panions for  sixty  years,  were  being  sundered,  and 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 


TAKING    HIS    WIFE    IN    HIS    ARMS    STRODE    ALONG   THE    PASSAGE 
AND    DOV.'N-STAIRS. Page    '.". 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  32 

taking  leave.  She  was  walking  alone  through 
the  valley  of  that  shadow  into  which  one  day  we 
must  all  enter ;  and  yet  she  was  not  alone,  for  we 
know  whose  rod  and  staff  were  comforting  her. 

One  night  she  had  fallen  quiet,  and  as  we 
hoped,  asleep ;  her  eyes  were  shut.  We  put  down 
the  gas,  and  sat  watching  her.  Suddenly  she  sat 
up  in  bed,  and  taking  a  bed  gown  which  was  ly- 
ing on  it,  rolled  up,  she  held  it  eagerly  to  her 
breast — to  the  right  side.  We  could  see  her  eyes 
bright  with  a  surprising  tenderness  and  joy, 
bending  over  this  bundle  of  clothes.  She  held  it 
as  a  woman  holds  her  sucking  child ;  opening  out 
her  nightgown  impatiently,  and  holding  it  close, 
and  brooding  over  it,  and  murmuring  foolish 
little  words,  as  over  one  whom  his  mother  com- 
forteth,  and  who  sucks  and  is  satisfied.  It  was 
pitiful  and  strange  to  see  her  wasted  dying  look, 
keen  and  yet  vague, — her  immense  love. 

"Preserve  me!"  groaned  James,  giving  way. 
And  then  she  rocked  back  and  forward,  as  if  to 


33  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

make  it  sleep,  hushing  it,  and  wasting  on  it  her 
infinite  fondness.  "Wae's  me,  doctor;  I  declare 
she's  thinkin'  it's  that  bairn."— "What  bairn ?"- 
"The  only  bairn  we  ever  had;  our  wee  Mysie,  and 
she's  in  the  Kingdom,  forty  years  and  mair."  It 
was  plainly  true ;  the  pain  in  the  breast,  telling  its 
urgent  story  to  a  bewildered,  ruined  brain,  was 
misread  and  mistaken ;  it  suggested  to  her  the  un- 
easiness of  a  breast  full  of  milk,  and  then  the 
child ;  and  so  again  once  more  they  were  together, 
and  she  had  her  ain  wee  Mysie  in  her  bosom. 

This  was  the  close.  She  sank  rapidly;  the  de- 
lirium left  her;  but,  as  she  whispered,  she  was 
"clean  silly";  it  was  the  lightening  before  the 
final  darkness.  After  having  for  some  time  lain 
still,  her  eyes  shut,  she  said,  "James!"  He  came 
close  to  her,  and,  lifting  up  her  calm,  clear,  beau- 
tiful eyes,  she  gave  him  a  long  look,  turned  to  me 
kindly  but  shortly,  looked  for  Rab  but  could  not 
see  him,  then  turned  to  her  husband  again,  as  if 
she  would  never  leave  off  looking,  shut  her  eyes, 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  34 

and  composed  herself.  She  lay  for  some  time 
breathing  quick,  and  passed  away  so  gently  that, 
when  we  thought  she  was  gone,  James,  in  his  old- 
fashioned  way,  held  the  mirror  to  her  face.  After 
a  long  pause,  one  small  spot  of  dimness  was 
breathed  out;  it  vanished  away,  and  never  re- 
turned, leaving  the  blank,  clear  darkness  of  the 
mirror  without  a  stain.  "What  is  our  life?  it  is 
even  a  vapor,  which  appeareth  for  a  little  time, 
and  then  vanisheth  away." 

Rab  all  this  time  had  been  full  awake  and  mo- 
tionless ;  he  came  forward  beside  us :  Ailie's  hand, 
which  James  had  held,  was  hanging  down ;  it  was 
soaked  with  his  tears;  Rab  licked  it  all  over  care- 
fully, looked  at  her,  and  returned  to  his  place  un- 
der the  table. 

James  and  I  sat,  I  don't  know  how  long,  but 
for  some  time, — saying  nothing.  He  started  up 
abruptly,  and  with  some  noise  went  to  the  table, 
and,  putting  his  right  fore  and  middle  fingers 
each  into  a  shoe,  pulled  them  out,  and  put  them 


35  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

on,  breaking  one  of  the  leather  latchets,  and  mut- 
tering in  anger,  "I  never  did  the  like  o'  that 
afore!" 

I  believe  he  never  did ;  nor  after  either.  "Rab !" 
he  said  roughly,  and  pointing  with  his  thumb  to 
the  bottom  of  the  bed.  Rab  leapt  up,  and  settled 
himself,  his  head  and  eye  to  the  dead  face.  "Mais- 
ter  John,  ye'll  wait  for  me,"  said  the  carrier,  and 
disappeared  in  the  darkness,  thundering  down- 
stairs in  his  heavy  shoes.  I  ran  to  a  front  win- 
dow; there  he  was,  already  round  the  house,  and 
out  at  the  gate,  fleeing  like  a  shadow. 

I  was  afraid  about  him,  and  yet  not  afraid ;  so 
I  sat  down  beside  Rab,  and,  being  wearied,  fell 
asleep.  I  awoke  from  a  sudden  noise  outside.  It 
was  November,  and  there  had  been  a  heavy  fall 
of  snow.  Rab  was  in  statu  quo;  he  heard  the 
noise  too,  and  plainly  knew  it,  but  never  moved. 
I  looked  out,  and  there,  at  the  gate,  in  the  dim 
morning — for  the  sun  was  not  up — was  Jess  and 
the  cart,  a  cloud  of  steam  rising  from  the  old 


RAB   AND    HIS    FRIENDS  36 

mare.  I  did  not  see  James ;  he  was  already  at  the 
door,  and  came  up  the  stairs  and  met  me.  It  was 
less  than  three  hours  since  he  left  and  he  must 
have  posted  out — who  knows  how? — to  Howgate, 
full  nine  miles  off,  yoked  Jess,  and  driven  her 
astonished  into  town.  He  had  an  armful  of 
blankets,  and  was  streaming  with  perspiration. 
He  nodded  to  me,  spread  out  on  the  floor  two 
pairs  of  clean  old  blankets  having  at  their  cor- 
ners, "A.  G.,  1794,"  in  large  letters  in  red 
worsted.  These  were  the  initials  of  Alison 
Graeme,  and  James  may  have  looked  in  at  her 
from  without, — himself  unseen  but  not  un- 
thought  of, — when  he  was  "wat,  wat  and  weary," 
and,  after  having  walked  many  a  mile  over  the 
hills,  may  have  seen  her  sitting,  while  "a'  the  lave 
were  sleepin',"  and  by  the  firelight  working  her 
name  on  the  blankets  for  her  ain  James's  bed. 

He  motioned  Rab  down,  and,  taking  his  wife 
in  his  arms,  laid  her  in  the  blankets,  and  happed 
her  carefully  and  firmly  up,  leaving  the  face  un- 


37  RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

covered;  and  then,  lifting  her,  he  nodded  again 
sharply  to  me,  and  with  a  resolved  but  utterly 
miserable  face  strode  along  the  passage  and 
down  stairs,  followed  by  Rab.  I  followed  with  a 
light,  but  he  didn't  need  it.  I  went  out,  holding 
stupidly  the  candle  in  my  hand,  in  the  calm, 
frosty  air;  we  were  soon  at  the  gate.  I  could 
have  helped  him,  but  I  saw  he  was  not  to  be  med- 
dled with,  and  he  was  strong  and  did  not  need  it. 
He  laid  her  down  as  tenderly,  as  safely,  as  he  had 
lifted  her  out  ten  days  before, — as  tenderly  as 
when  he  had  her  first  in  his  arms  when  she  was 
only  "A.  G.," — sorted  her,  leaving  that  beautiful 
sealed  face  open  to  the  heavens ;  and  then,  taking 
Jess  by  the  head,  he  moved  away.  He  did  not 
notice  me,  neither  did  Rab,  who  presided  behind 
the  cart.  I  stood  till  they  passed  through  the 
long  shadow  of  the  College,  and  turned  up  Nicol- 
son  Street.  I  heard  the  solitary  cart  sound 
through  the  streets,  and  die  away  and  come 
again ;  and  I  returned,  thinking  of  that  company 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS  38 

going  up  Libberton  Brae,  then  along  Roslin 
Muir,  the  morning  light  touching  the  Pentlands 
and  making  them  like  on-looking  ghosts;  then 
down  the  hill  through  Auchindinny  woods,  past 
"haunted  Woodhouselee" ;  and,  as  daybreak  came 
sweeping  up  the  bleak  Lammermuirs,  and  fell  on 
his  own  door,  the  company  would  stop,  and 
James  would  take  the  key,  and  lift  Ailie  up 
again,  laying  her  on  her  own  bed,  and,  having  put 
Jess  up,  would  return  with  Rab  and  shut  the 
door. 

James  buried  his  wife,  with  his  neighbors 
mourning,  Rab  inspecting  the  solemnity  from  a 
distance.  It  was  snow,  and  that  black,  ragged 
hole  would  look  strange  in  the  midst  of  the  swell- 
ing, spotless  cushion  of  white.  James  looked  after 
everything;  then  suddenly  fell  ill,  and  took  to 
bed;  was  insensible  when  the  doctor  came,  and 
soon  died.  A  sort  of  low  fever  was  prevailing  in 
the  village,  and  his  want  of  sleep,  his  exhaustion, 
and  his  misery  made  him  apt  to  take  it.  The 


39  RAB   AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

grave  was  not  difficult  to  reopen.  A  fresh  fall  of 
snow  had  again  made  all  things  white  and 
smooth;  Rab  once  more  looked  on,  and  slunk 
home  to  the  stable. 

And  what  of  Rab?  I  asked  for  him  next  at 
the  new  carrier  who  got  the  good-will  of  James's 
business,  and  was  now  master  of  Jess  and  her 
cart.  "How's  Rab?"  He  put  me  off,  and  said 
rather  rudely,  "What's  your  business  wi'  the 
dowg?"  I  was  not  to  be  so  put  off.  "Where's 
Rab?"  He,  getting  confused  and  red,  and  in- 
termeddling with  his  hair,  said,  "  'Deed,  sir, 
Rab's  deid."— "Dead!  what  did  he  die  of?"- 
"Weel,  sir,"  said  he,  getting  redder,  "he  didna 
exactly  dee ;  he  was  killed.  I  had  to  brain  him  wi' 
a  rack-pin ;  there  was  nae  doin'  wi'  him.  He  lay 
in  the  treviss  wi'  the  mear,  and  wadna  come  oot.  I 
tempit  him  wi'  kail  and  meat,  but  he  wad  tak 
naething,  and  keepit  me  frae  feedin'  the  beast, 
and  he  was  aye  gur  gurrin',  and  grup  gruppin* 
me  by  the  legs.  I  was  laith  to  make  awa  wi'  the 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS 


40 


auld  dowg,  his  like  wasna  atween  this  and  Thorn- 
hill, — but, — 'deed,  sir,  I  could  do  naething  else." 
I  believed  him.  Fit  end  for  Rab,  quick  and  com- 
plete. His  teeth  and  his  friends  gone,  why  should 
he  keep  the  peace,  and  be  civil? 


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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


DEC!  8 1969 
DEC   41968 


Form  L9-Series  444 


A     000  032  967     2 


